Sufficient Provocation
by Mindy35
Summary: KIBBS. PostDoppelganger. Kate's jealously leads to an unexpected revelation.


Title: Sufficient Provocation

Author: MindyHarmon

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nup, I didn't make 'em.

Summary: KIBBS. Post-'Doppelganger'. Kate's jealousy leads to an unexpected revelation.

Spoilers: 'Doppelganger' obviously and 'Blackwater'.

* * *

She can't believe Gibbs took her in there with him -- into that interrogation room as some kind of protection, some kind of objective force. She'd had to sit there and listen to that woman detail how he had invited her into his home, locked her in his basement and seduced her into giving evidence that would incriminate her.

His behavior baffled her; what can he have been _thinking_? She'd always suspected Gibbs was a very sexual man, but to be blinded by it…? It was so unlike him. To trust someone so quickly, invite them in so casually -- it just didn't ring true at all.

Or perhaps her jealousy was over-riding her intellectual capacity.

Kate _was _jealous, she admitted it – the violence of it surprised her and she seethed internally, cursing him for making her suffer this way.

When they'd stepped out of the interrogation room, he'd closed the door and leant back on it as she leant on the wall opposite, not meeting his eyes.

"Well?" he'd prompted.

"Well, what?" she'd replied stubbornly.

"What's your gut feeling?" he'd asked, obviously not trusting his own and for that she didn't blame him, though she could hardly see the attraction.

She'd shrugged and met his eyes stonily: "She's guilty, Gibbs – it's written all over her."

"Yeah," he had sighed heavily as though she'd confirmed his suspicions and headed down the hallway as she'd followed, watching his shoulders droop a bit.

Even so, she could not work up enough objectivity to feel any sympathy for the man. He'd walked right into this one as far as she was concerned. Gibbs' infamous gut had been way off and she would have told him so if he'd given her the chance to meet the woman before that night. Instead, he'd had McGee with him; another hapless male who'd not suspected a thing.

Kate had been positive the moment she'd set eyes on Karen Wilkerson that she was bad news. She was the type that believed a nice ass and seductive smile could get her out of absolutely anything. Even murder.

Any woman could work her charms and innate advantage to devious ends if she chose to. The trick was being able to see who was and who was not genuine and when it came to that, in Kate's opinion, most men where pretty much useless. Including their supposedly all-powerful and infallible leader. He might be a smart man, she thought to herself – but he was still a man and apparently he could be as misguided as the next.

Tony and McGee had been gossiping about it all night. Gibbs had gone out for coffee fifteen minutes earlier. Kate was doing background on Karen Wilkinson while trying to ignore Tony's immature drooling over 'Gibbs' blondie' and McGee's attempts at some rational explanation to clear their boss. She'd already told them to get on with the assignments Gibbs had set them, but was beyond pressing the point on this particular night.

The elevator dinged as Gibbs emerged with two coffees in hand. She groaned under her breath, and ducked closer to her desk.

"McGee!" he barked firstly and Kate listened vaguely as McGee came forward and reported that Karen had indeed accessed some file or another on her computer which seemed to indicate she knew about the scam being pulled right under her nose. Gibbs nodded silently, McGee retreated and Tony approached, shaking his head:

"Women!" he huffed to Gibbs.

Gibbs looked up threateningly. Kate looked over darkly.

"You really had no idea Boss?" he asked.

"You got something to contribute to the case DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded but did not allow the other man to answer: "Then shut the hell up!"

"Yes Boss," Tony said quickly, returning to his corner.

Kate rose, opening the filing cabinet behind her desk. She glanced across at Gibbs who sat drinking his coffee and looking infuriated.

"You know why you do it, don't you?" she asked, keeping her voice low so the other agents could not hear her.

"What?" he snapped, barely paying attention.

She looked at him side-on, her heart quickening in her chest: "You have an unconscious attraction to women you _know_ are going to let you down, fail you in some way, betray your trust."

He looked over at her and she looked away, rummaging through the drawer.

"That way you're not surprised when they disappoint you -- and you don't have to worry about disappointing _them_, failing _them_." She grabbed a file, hugged it to her chest and faced him bravely: "It also saves you from getting too close."

Gibbs stared at her, saying nothing. She blinked unaffected and unrepentant, their eyes locked till Tony came up beside her:

"Are you trying to justify the woman's side again, Kate?"

"Tony," she said turning toward him impatiently: "I'm only trying to defend the _rest_ of the female population who _aren't_ murderers, adulterers or liars." She glanced at Gibbs who still watched her silently and addressed both men: "Some of us _can_ be trusted."

"Don't listen to her Boss, she's just jealous," he turned to her with a maniacal grin on his face: "— ain't that right Kate?"

"Excuse me?" she snapped, glancing guiltily at Gibbs, before checking herself: "You're delusional Tony," she nearly shouted and turned hastily back to her desk.

She took her seat as Tony began to report on the tire tracks found at the park that matched the blonde's vehicle.

By the time Kate had finished back-grounding her, they had a pretty definite picture of who this woman was and just how capable she was of the crime she was under suspicion of. Gibbs took Kate in for a second interview with Ms Wilkinson and her irate, balding lawyer and this time, they charged her.

-xxxxxx-

It had been a long night. Kate felt like she could drop on the spot and sleep for about a week without waking. She still felt somewhat bothered – very bothered – by the whole Gibbs and the blonde thing.

She felt disillusioned by it somehow; disappointed and hurt in a way she had no right to, if she was only considering her boss from a professional point-of-view. But she'd long since lost all objectivity when it came to him and she wondered bitterly whether she'd ever really possessed any.

She pressed the button for the elevator and stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. Someone came up behind her, she could feel them standing a little too close and didn't need to look to know who it was.

The doors opened and they boarded the elevator in silence. As it started to move, she could feel Gibbs thinking about what she'd said to him earlier. She can't believe she'd had the audacity speak up, say what she did, but she knows she wasn't wrong about him. He'd known it too -- and she thought maybe she'd detected in his eyes a spark of surprise that she knew him as well as she did.

The doors opened on the darkened foyer of the NCIS building and Gibbs stepped out ahead of her. A step behind him, Kate felt her heel catch and loosing her balance, she fell, her hands catching her as she landed on the floor. She groaned, frustrated and tired, and hung her head in shame.

Of all the people she would like to be thought of as having some modicum of control and elegance, Gibbs was the foremost. And now she was on her hands and knees in front of him, having been incapable of negotiating the exit of an elevator. At least he was polite enough not to laugh out loud.

He reached down to help her up: "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she sighed, turning herself over and sitting on the floor. She dusted off her hands and looked mournfully at the little brown suede shoe that sat innocently on the threshold of the elevator, its heel wedged in the crack. "They were my favorites too," she muttered, sullenly.

Gibbs leaned down and retrieved the shoe, before the doors closed over again and squatting down in front of her, handed it over.

"Not anymore," she grumbled, taking the shoe and glaring at it with loathing.

"Come on, get up," Gibbs urged, offering her a hand.

"Can't," she sulked, feeling that right now the floor was exactly where she felt she felt like being. She salvaged a few belongings that had tipped out of her handbag when she fell and stuffed them back in.

"Why, you hurt?" he asked and she thrilled slightly at the underlying concern in his voice.

"Nope," she mumbled, tracing the run that now reached up the entire length of one leg of her stockings. She looked up and saw that he was watching the movement of her finger up her leg with interest.

His eyes snapped up to hers and he demanded quickly: "Are you going to get up or am I going to have to put you over my shoulder and haul you outta here?"

Her eyes widened, alarmed at this image, yet something in her refused to budge. She rubbed the red knee that had taken the brunt of her fall: "Augh, I give up, Gibbs. Just leave me here, will you?"

She shook her head, tiredly, as some part of her hoped he _would_ use a fireman's lift on her. But those kind of fantasies had been running madly around her brain for nearly two years now -- and look where they'd got her. Absolutely nowhere.

She was so tired of it, she was so frustrated with it, and when Gibbs started kissing blondes he barely knew, she started getting really, really angry with him, herself and the whole damn situation. She didn't have the tenacity to continue with it and she wished she could forget him, that he'd just leave her alone.

"I give up…" she muttered, mostly to herself.

Gibbs sat down beside her and faced her: "That doesn't sound like the Caitlin Todd I know," he said.

"Yeah, well," she huffed, looking down: "you don't know me very well."

"I think we both know that's not true," he replied, ducking his head to try and catch her eyes. "For instance," he stole the shoe she still held in her hand: " -- I know these are your favorite shoes." He looked at it and shrugged: "Used to be."

"Impressive," she smiled wanly.

"I know…" he continued more seriously: "that you seem to have figured out an awful lot about me."

Her eyes crawled up to his as she tried to gauge whether he was angry or upset about her earlier words.

"And I now know…" he went on, his eyes twitching slightly as they held hers, searching for something: "….that you are capable of jealousy."

"That was Tony talking," she rushed to clarify: "_I _didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," he replied, evenly, his eyes pinning hers.

She shifted uncomfortably, looking away: "Well….everyone's capable of jealousy Gibbs, that's no great revelation. It's part of the human condition. All we need is sufficient provocation."

"Hmmm," he hummed at her logical response, not asking her what her definition of sufficient provocation might be.

She shifted again under his scrutiny, her eyes darting side to side, the color rising in her cheeks.

What exactly did he want from her? Yes, she was jealous, thinking of that woman, or any woman, for that matter, being the recipient of his affections -- physical or otherwise. Yes, it drove her wild. What did he care?

"It's just a glitch, I'll get over it," she mumbled hastily and started to rise.

"Yeah, you're probably right" he agreed, holding her arm as she got to her feet and slipped her foot into her shoe. "I did," he added offhandedly.

Huh? She tugged her bag back onto her shoulder and straightened.

"How is Thomas McAllister by the way?" he casually asked.

What? What was he talking about?

"Thomas McAllister?" she repeated, puzzled.

"You know -- tall guy, blonde, good-looking, owns a lot of planes…"

Now she was catching up.

"I wouldn't know," she shrugged, defensively and tugged her coat back into place: "You'd have to ask the redhead he's now dating."

"Dumb bastard," Gibbs muttered, almost inaudibly and she looked up, sharply, unsure if she'd heard accurately.

Was she getting this right? Gibbs was implying that _he_ had been jealous of Tom McAllister, the man she'd dated very briefly a few weeks back? She thought he'd barely registered her interest in the man. She never saw any signs of him being resentful or upset. It had never occurred to her that Gibbs, would care…

She looked at him confusedly: "You…? You--" She couldn't even finish the thought.

He didn't speak for a long moment, his blue enigmatic eyes staring at her with heart-stopping intensity: "I saw the way you looked at him," he admittedwith a hoarse voice.

Her lips parted slightly as she blinked at him in shock -- was he _insane_? The way she looked at _him_? The way she'd looked at Thomas McAllister was _nothing _compared to the way she looked at her boss, and always had – did he really not _see it?_

"Well…" she breathed, wondering whether she would regret what she was about to reveal, but unable to stop herself from speaking the truth: "_He_ saw the way I looked at _you._"

She can remember Tom pointedly asking her about Gibbs and her telling him about how she came to work for NCIS. She'd said too much, she thinks now -- or maybe, it wasn't what she said at all. But she remembered how his eyes had changed as the truth dawned on him. She remembered how guilty and frustrated she'd felt.

Finding the courage to look up, she couldn't discern Gibbs' reaction to her confession. She held his gaze for as long as possible -- it was like talking to a stone wall -- then shook her head and looked down again.

He clearly had nothing to say to her – about her immense crush on him or anything else. Obviously his jealousy _was _just a glitch -- some kind of possessive streak in him that had very little to do with her as a human being or a woman.

"Forget it," she said quietly, as she withdrew hastily: "Like I said -- I'll get over it."

"Kate--" he said and she thought she heard pity in his voice and cringed internally.

"See you tomorrow, Gibbs," she smiled grimly, already heading for the door.

"Wait--"

He followed, and she felt his hand grasp around her upper arm, with a too tight grip.

"Don't!--" she ordered, sharply, pulling out of his hold and backing away.

This man did not know his own strength. He did not know just how easily he could break her. He did not know how close to the edge she was. He did not know anything about her at all.

He dropped his hand, taken aback, and stopped still; silent as ever, watching her with a detached sort of concern. She immediately regretted her outburst.

Barely able to meet his eyes, she glanced at him apologetically and mumbled: "Forget I …" she tried to laugh but it came out sadly: "-- it doesn't matter."

She turned and pushed through the doors of the foyer, heading out into the chilly night and in the direction of her car. She moved quickly, listening guardedly for his voice or footsteps behind her and already dreading the inevitable moment when she would have to face him again.

Reaching her car, with a sigh of relief, she dropped heavily into the driver's seat, shutting the door behind her and resting her head against the steering wheel for a moment in silence. Her cell phone trilled loudly and she jumped, tugging it off her waist band.

"Kate Todd," she sighed, upset.

"Don't you think that eighteen years is a huge age gap in a relationship?"

She froze. She bit her lip and considered hanging up for a second. Then, she considered his question.

She held her breath and answered: "A few years ago I would have thought so."

He was silent a moment: "Don't you think that for a young woman to get involved with her older boss might prove damaging to her career?"

She dropped her forehead into her hand: "A few years ago I would never have considered it," she admitted, softly.

"And don't you think--"

"Gibbs --" she cut him off.

If he was just going to point out all the reasons why she and he together would be a bad idea, she could go home and do that by herself. She'd had two years to think about it. And it hadn't altered even slightly the undeniable truth that despite everything -- she was mad about him and nothing logical mattered.

"I'm so beyond thinking this through," she told him wearily: "I just want--"

There was a knock on her window and she pulled her head up out of her hand to see Gibbs' brown coat at her door, with, no doubt, the man himself accompanying it. She saw him disconnect his cell and put it away and she did the same, with a reluctant sigh.

He opened the door and she slowly stepped out.

As soon as she was on her feet but before she met his eyes or read his intent, he was on her, everywhere; hands on her face and her waist, exploring through her clothes, his mouth occupying hers, his hot breath flooding her mouth. Her heart leapt, her lips opened in shock, in pleasure, her eyes closed and her head spun.

His kiss was hot and tender, demanding and soft -- she felt like fainting, crying, laughing and howling all at once. His presence swept her up and around, overwhelming her with the reality of his desire, the strength of her response and the flawless, mind-blowing clash of their physical, mental and soulful chemistry.

When she recovered a little sense, she reached out blindly, hands grasping onto the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, never to let him escape as she pressed her mouth more eagerly against his and allowed his tongue to enter her mouth.

She leaned into his kiss, drawing the taste of him into her with an eager tongue and finding that he tasted the way she always guessed he would; ripe and potent and deeply masculine. Rising onto her toes, she slid her arms up around his neck, pulling him down so she had better access to his mouth.

His body felt safe and strong on hers as he simultaneously drew her up against him and pinned her firmly against the car door. She acquiesced, willingly, blissfully, to every demand he wordlessly made of her, allowing him perfect access to all she had. His hands tangled in her hair, cupping her head, as he began to lay random kisses over her face, drawing a delighted giggle from her.

She stroked curiously the papery texture of his worn face and laid a trail of kisses down his neck, seeking with eager lips the small patch of silver hair at the opening of his shirt that had fascinated her on more than one occasion. She stuck out her tongue and he tasted strong and human, the smell of sawdust in his clothes clean and natural.

"If you _ever_ kiss another blonde…" she threatened jealously and pulled back to look up at him. She hesitated and hoped it was okay for her to stake her claim now – she leveled him with a warning look: "_I'll_ come after with a golf stick."

He smirked at her: "Is that your idea of sufficient provocation?" he rumbled and she narrowed her eyes at him using her own words against her.

"What's yours?" she countered an unmistakable dare in her voice.

What would it take, she wondered, to drive this controlled man out of his mind with jealousy over her? She'd like to know – for future reference – not that she intended on noticing any other men now that her boss had finally noticed her.

His eyes wandered over her head for a moment --perhaps he was thinking of her blonde or perhaps he was thinking of his. It didn't really matter – as far as she was concerned they were ancient history.

"About the same," he nodded, his mouth turning up in one corner.

"So…we're in agreement?" she asked carefully, cocking an eyebrow at him, and wanting to make sure they were on the same page with this.

He might have kissed her – and it was one hell of a kiss -- but she needed to be certain of what they were saying to each other, what they were committing to, of the implication behind his actions. If he was hers now – she wanted it perfectly understood that she was entirely capable of defending what belonged to her if provoked.

"Yeah, I guess so," he mused in a raspy voice as his eyes raked over her features with a frankly proprietary air that made her shiver inside.

Oh yeah, she noted privately – definitely on the same page. She knew by the look on his face that she would be kissing no blondes, no redheads and no brunettes for a very long time. Only silver did it for her.

She looked down for a moment and then back at him; there was just one other thing she needed to clear up.

"And what about redheads?" she asked testingly.

"Can't trust 'em," he shook his head conclusively. "I've got a new type," he added quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear as the wind whipped it into her face.

"Brunettes?" she smiled, squeezing him tighter.

He smiled lopsidedly: "Just the one," he whispered and moved in to kiss her again.

She didn't close her eyes this time, watching as both his hands came up to cup her cheeks, his face poised in an expression of unadulterated longing. He kissed her more purposefully this time, more intensively and she was left in no doubt of where their evening was headed. A flood of uncontrollable anticipation and just a little anxiety rose in her belly, as she wondered what it as going to be like to be naked and alone with Gibbs, to be making love with him, to be waking up next to her boss in the morning and knowing him as more than her boss. Much more.

Gibbs broke away from her, clearing his throat and looking about: "We really shouldn't be doing this here."

She opened her door and stepped inside, turning back: "Follow me home?"

Gibbs looked at her to make sure he was hearing what he was hearing: "Okay," he nodded, then watched her get in and start the engine.

Kate waited till he went to his own car and made sure he was behind her when she exited the parking lot. After a few minutes of steady driving, she picked up her cell, put the earpiece in her ear and thumbed speed dial one.

"Do you believe in true love?" she asked, without introduction.

She'd actually wanted to tell him she loved him – she'd wanted to tell him right away and not waste any more time. But, she thought patiently, she had all night to tell him, all night to demonstrate to him in a variety of ways exactly how she felt about him.

Gibbs paused: "This is a trick question," he stated warily, but she could hear the humor in his tone.

"No," she laughed: "Answer the question."

"A few years ago…" he responded, with a shrug in his tone.

"Mmm?" she encouraged.

"I would've said absolutely not," he admitted frankly.

She nodded and paused; as she expected. "Now?" she prompted quietly.

"Now…?" he mused, partly teasing and partly pensive: "Now, I…wouldn't dismiss the possibility, I guess."

She smiled – that was so like him. Maybe another few years and she would have him convinced. She was about to hang up, when he spoke again:

"Hey, Kate?" he asked as she pulled up to an intersection and stopped the car.

"Yeah?" she breathed, sitting back in her seat and concentrating for a moment on the conversation they were having.

"What you said earlier about how I'm attracted to the wrong women, women…"

"Women you can't trust," she finished for him, picking up on his hesitation.

She knew what he was trying to ask and the question didn't offend her. She didn't mind his doubt. She was well aware of his history and he had every right to be cautious.

And she was secure in the knowledge that she would lay her life down before she hurt him; she had no intention but to love him and do everything within her power to make him happy.

"If that's true…" he continued, cautiously. He paused for a long time and she waited patiently for him to voice what he needed to.

Eventually he spoke: "-- why am I attracted to you?"

It was, she thought, an interesting question; very typical of the investigator in him and very intriguing to both the profiler and the woman in her. She could guess at an answer but only he knew his own feelings.

The corners of her mouth lifted as she asked playfully: "You tell me, Gibbs."

"Oh, I intend to do much more than that, Kate," he rumbled in her ear and her stomach flip-flopped unexpectedly as she considered just some of the ways in which this man might choose to explore his attraction to her in depth.

"Really? Much more?' she mumbled back dreamily, wondering vaguely whether she would actually make it back to her apartment without swooning.

"Oh yeah," he breathed in her ear and she shut her eyes, thinking that those two syllables on her boss' tongue might just be the sexiest sound she'd ever heard in her entire life.

"'Bout time, Gibbs," she whispered, her breathing becoming shallow.

There was a charged silence over the line; she listened to the sound of his breath, and her own quickening heartbeat as she desperately began to wrack her brain for shortcuts home.

"Maybe…" she cleared her throat and continued, turning her mind back to his question: "Maybe you're just getting old, Gibbs, you're finally growing up," she grinned brazenly at him over the phone and could almost hear him bite his tongue.

"Possible I guess," he admitted through grit teeth: "Or maybe…" he added, sounding like he'd lighted on a theory he liked much better: "Maybe…._you're _the exception to the rule."

Ah, so his romantic sensibility was not entirely disabled, she noted happily and smiled.

"Now, that's a possibility," she agreed softly and glanced into the rearview mirror, smiling at his shadow in the car behind hers, knowing he was looking back at her in that moment. He could trust her – he knew he could and she cherished the confidence that he placed in her, vowing never to put it in danger.

He beeped his horn and she redirected her eyes, seeing that the light they'd stopped at had changed and she was now free to go. She flicked her eyes from the green light back to the road, and planted her hands on the wheel, steadily steering them both towards home.

* * *


End file.
